


wanderlust

by mlle_enchantress



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Nostalgia, Travel, mostly aangst, or it might just be sad, sokka and katara are there for like 2 seconds also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlle_enchantress/pseuds/mlle_enchantress
Summary: Under the darkness of the new moon and the brightness of the white stars and the warmth of Aang’s body, Zuko lay. They were pretending to sleep, but Zuko could sense the irregularity of Aang’s breath and the strength of his beating heart.“We’re not very far from the Fire Nation, are we?” Zuko murmured as gently as possible.“No,” Aang replied, slow, nearly-asleep. “We’re not.”—Ten years after the Hundred Year War, Zuko asks Aang to travel the world with him.
Relationships: Aang/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 82





	wanderlust

**Author's Note:**

> y’all are gonna hate me for this…

Naliaka, the future Fire Lady, was beautiful. She had dark hair with hints of texture throughout, light-brown skin with undertones like cherry rice wine, and eyes the gentle blue of hydrangea petals. She was unapologetically Water Tribe, wit filling the swells of her words and compassion her inflection. She was a healer, learned hands holding life steady beneath the beating sun, and she was level-headed, always with a hand to set on Zuko’s shoulder and a joke to slip into his ear.

Naliaka would be easy to love, but Zuko wasn’t there yet. He’d spent the last decade pouring his energy into mending what his nation had devastated, but he’d yet to fall for all her kindness. He was selfish for it and it – _he_ – was frustrating, but at least he knew Naliaka didn’t love him yet; he wasn’t sure she ever would, but that didn’t concern him so much. He had no demands for a noblewoman willing to leave her home in hopes of a brighter future.

Their wedding date was set. Not quite a year – though right now, Naliaka was braiding his hair. She sat behind him on the edge of his bed, threading her fingers through his locks. She always took her time, taking hairstyling as an opportunity to massage Zuko’s scalp and knead his shoulders, if she noticed they were tense. This was another endearing thing about Naliaka, whether Water Tribe or not: the intimacy she invited. It was dramatically different from what he’d grown up with; Zuko liked that.

“Naliaka…” He didn’t know how to bring this up.

“Hm?” A gentle voice, then patient waiting.

He sighed. “I was wondering…I want to travel.”

She and Zuko let it hang in the air for a while. She knew he wasn’t good with words, so she soaked it in and eventually spoke. “You want to go alone?”

“I…not alone, but without you.”

“Ah. How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know; I haven’t seriously thought about it. But you’re okay with it?”

“Am I really in the position to keep the Fire Lord from his desires?” Her tone was dismissive, almost joking. His jaw clenched.

“Yes, you are.” Not quite angry, but serious. “You’re going to be my wife.”

Her fingers stalled. “Oh. That’s right. The Fire Nation values its women, at least in theory.”

“The Fire Nation does. Fire Lords often do not, but I don’t want to be like my recent forefathers.”

He imagined her nodding behind him. “Well, you have my blessing. I assume you’re traveling with The Avatar, and possibly others?”

“I – um.” He blinked. “How did you know?”

“If you’re going to travel the world again, who would you go with other than your friends from the first time?” She tugged his hair playfully and resumed braiding.

Zuko laughed then said, a bit abruptly, “I’m lucky.”

“How so?”

“You understand me.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m used to being quiet and listening to things unspoken.”

They lulled into a quietude. Zuko asked if he could stand and stretch his legs. When he sat back down, he brought a paper and brush with him and wrote to his former student.

* * *

When Appa descended onto the palace courtyard, Aang vaulted off of his back and landed before the betrothed couple in a low bow.

“Firelord,” he said to the earth, stiffly.

Zuko bowed. “Avatar.”

Then they straightened, met eyes, and laughed.

“It’s good to see you, Naliaka!” Aang exclaimed after.

She smiled and nodded. “The Fire Nation is honored to have you.”

“You should give me the grand tour!” He stepped forward, practically bouncing. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

When Naliaka glanced up at Zuko, it took him a moment to realize she was asking permission. Instead of frowning, he leaned towards her and said, “Am I really in the position to keep The Avatar from his desires?”

She rolled her eyes and smiled despite herself, looking almost relieved. “We’ll return in time for dinner.”

Zuko watched their retreating figures until they were difficult to hold onto. Then he returned to his quarters to finish writing plans for the nation for when he was gone.

* * *

“You know you can do as you please while I’m gone, right?”

“I do. And I want to stay here.” She was reading over some of Zuko’s directives, pages spread neatly on his desk. With her eyes downcast, garments red, hair down, she almost looked Fire Nation. “I think it’s important for me to understand this nation and its culture. This is where I’ll be living the rest of my life. I don’t want to be an outsider forever.”

“I understand,” he said. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Here I’ll be _happy_ ,” she replied.

“…Okay. And if you change your mind at any point…”

“I’ll send you a letter if I decide to go home.”

“You don’t have to do that. I might be hard to reach. Just go, whenever you want.”

“Alright.”

* * *

They left in the early morning.

Before Zuko climbed Appa’s side, Naliaka saw him off with a brief kiss to the side of his eye. She waved at him as they rose. He wasn’t sure when she stopped. He didn’t watch her for long.

* * *

They landed at the Western Air Temple in the morning, when the light was gentle. Aang ran his hands through Appa’s fur as he drank from the fountain, eternally flowing with cerulean.

Zuko wandered to the edge of the platform, gaze scaling the slopes of the temples’ design. They were dull from disuse and breathtaking by design, sage-accented gray hanging in defiance of natural law. His gaze settled on the damaged temple, tan-gold pier collapsed and lost in the fog beneath them.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted to the space. “I’ll never stop being sorry for what I did.”

“I know, Zuko,” Aang answered.

Zuko startled but continued. “Or what my people have done to you.”

“I know.” There was the lightest shuffle of feet before, “You know I’ve forgiven you, right?”

“But do I deserve that?”

“Yes. To me, you do.”

Zuko didn’t argue further. He felt the telltale shift of air at his right, knew Aang was beside him.

“This is my favorite air temple,” Zuko murmured, a bit absently. “Not – that I don’t love the Southern Air Temple–”

“No, I get it.” Aang was smiling kindly, always reassuring. “This place is amazing…We should explore.”

“We should?”

“Yeah! Let’s tour it again. I can start coming up with plans for its restoration. This is a fan favorite of the acolytes’.”

He nudged Zuko’s arm and leaped to a different platform, throwing a look over his shoulder.

_You’re coming, right?_

And continuing forward.

_Right._

* * *

The Northern Water Tribe received them with formality and surprise. There were more commoners around than at Zuko’s previous visits, likely due to the unanticipated nature of their arrival. Soon after Aang and Zuko dismounted Appa, Chief Arnook and his wife walked swiftly towards them, trailing a young servant.

“Firelord Zuko, Avatar Aang” Arnook greeted, the three men exchanging bows. “We weren’t expecting you,” he admitted, only a hint of his miffedness apparent.

“Yes, we apologize for our spontaneity,” Zuko said. “We’re here for…travelling purposes, today.”

“…Ah. Well, we will have accommodations prepared for you shortly. Please, follow us to the palace.”

Zuko and Aang were effectively corralled into guest rooms for the near-entirety of two days, preparations commencing furiously outside their walls. Though they were vigorously encouraged to stay inside, Zuko managed to visit Naliaka’s parents the second afternoon. They talked over sea prunes and seaweed cookies, expressing their excitement at the imminent union of their families. That night, they were led to a welcoming feast under the moon, drums beating in resonant synchronicity as the chief led a prayer to Yue. They sat side by side, arms brushing as they accepted the dishes offered – sea crab and squid for Zuko, seaweed noodles and kale for Aang. The sea prunes involved resulted in a wrinkle-nosed Avatar slipping them onto Zuko’s plate and barely-controlled teasing. They reigned themselves in enough to minimize dirty looks from their hosts, but they fell back into jeering after the ceremony, and Zuko fell asleep smiling at the memory of one of Aang’s laughably-weak insults.

The next day, they went sight-seeing. They were escorted through the capital by a team of waterbenders, coasting through navy waterways via gondola. Aang tried to start conversations with their attendants a few times, but they only replied minimally and gave their charges a narrow berth whenever they ventured on ice.

It was in the Spirit Oasis where Zuko felt most like himself, as much as a firebender could in the North Pole. He knelt by the pond, warmth resettling in his numbed bones, mind slipping towards something like meditation. He watched the Moon Spirit and Ocean Spirit encircle each other, blurring into one. An obscure part of his mind reminded him of their names: Tui and La.

“Ah…memories,” Aang said, sitting down on Zuko’s right.

Zuko raised his brow but didn’t look away from the koi. “Weren’t you unconscious for most of the siege?”

“I wasn’t _‘unconscious,’_ I was…spiritually occupied.”

Zuko’s lips quirked up derisively, but when he raised his gaze to look at Aang, it caught on a Water Tribe attendant stationed by one of the oasis’ bridges, and he felt his smile slip. “Do you ever get tired of all the attention?”

He glanced over his shoulder, at their escorts. “You mean the suffocating apprehension following our every move as we walk around as the Avatar and Firelord, respectively?”

“Yeah.” Zuko smirked humorlessly, felt himself grow oddly wistful. “At one point in my life, I was just another refugee who made it to Ba Sing Se. We had this cozy apartment and the tea shop; I even went on a semi-normal date.” He chuckled gently. Aang did, too. “But now, I’m the most threatening man in the three nations.”

“And Republic City.” Aang added, helpfully.

Zuko sighed. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Aang leaned back on his hands, eyes hard with empathy and exhaustion. But instead of voicing it, he grinned at Zuko and asked, “When’s the last time you got away from it?”

That night, instead of returning to the palace, Zuko and Aang rented a cheap hotel room and bought a case of beer. They drank through it one bottle at a time, passing gold-dripping glass between their lips to draw out how long it took to get drunk.

By the time the moon began slipping down the sky, Aang was bending their beer into beads and threading them over Zuko’s flame-peppered palms, swearing he could feel their heartbeats as liquid passed through flitting gas.

* * *

“How do I look?” Aang asked.

“Like a fire ferret,” Zuko answered.

“Well, I obviously knew that.”

“Then there was no reason to ask.”

“If you were to ask me, ‘How do I look, Aang?’” he mocked Zuko’s raspy voice, “I would have said, ‘You look benevolent and beautiful, just like The Painted Lady.’ And you would have responded, ‘Thank you, Avatar.’”

“Thank you, Avatar,” Zuko parroted.

“You are impossible,” he huffed.

Zuko smiled under his mask and strolled forward. _Cute. Right now, you look cute._ “It feels like centuries since I came to one of these,” Zuko said.

“I get the feeling,” Aang replied, neck bared as he gazed upward.

The early-evening sky was strung with white lanterns, each stamped with calligraphy Zuko couldn’t make out. The air was rich with street food, familiar and foreign flavors taking him back to his oldest sense of home – a mother and cousin’s embrace – and his years spent lost and travelling. There was the murmur of chatter and the sizzling of grills but it was surprisingly quiet for a festival.

“Do you wanna check out the show?” Aang asked, nodding at the answer to the night’s volume. A crowd of children kneeled before a cloth-screen stage, watching a shadow puppet show come to a close. A colorful paper-Yangchen stood centerstage with an assembly of companions around her, a smooth-voiced woman narrating. “…Due to her wisdom and diligence, not only were the Four Nations greatly at peace during Avatar Yangchan’s lifetime, but that peace extended for many years past her death and into Avatar Kuruk’s lifetime. She will forever be remembered as one of the most capable and devoted Avatars to grace our nations.”

The kids clapped as the stage darkened. Then all Vaatu broke loose. They stood collectively and exploded in all directions, loud and chaotic as a supernova but not nearly as charming. The festival was boisterous in a moment, dancing with shadows and conversation and shrieks. But it was almost more comfortable, definitely more familiar.

“That was a lot less horrifying than the last play I saw here,” Aang commented as they strolled.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Yeah. Ten years ago, there was a fire-something festival; I’m pretty sure it was in this area. I had to watch your dad blast an earthbender to ash. They were puppets, but still.” Aang shuddered dramatically. “The Three Elements Festival is much nicer.”

“Agni, I’d hope so,” Zuko said to hear Aang’s soft chuckle. He paused by the Earth Nation-style opera singers to drop a handful of gold coins in the small basket at the foot of the stage.

The sky was growing darker. Soon, they would start lighting fireworks, and it’d be even harder to hear Aang’s voice. But it’d be nice to see him under the new, flashing color, even under his mask; and it’d be nice to hear crackles and pops that didn’t denote danger. It wouldn’t be hard to enjoy.

“We should dance,” Aang said suddenly.

“Dance?” Zuko got out.

“Yeah.” He was definitely smiling one of his ultra-radiant smiles; Zuko’s fingers itched to push off his mask and check. “Come on, Hotman! Let’s dance like it’s 0 AG!”

Aang was already walking towards the crowd of dancers.

Zuko had to follow.

* * *

“Teo!” The Avatar cried before practically assaulting his old friend and endangering his wheelchair. Teo didn’t seem very bothered, though, calling out similarly and clapping Aang’s back.

There was something about watching Aang be Aang that filled Zuko with an embarrassing fondness at his charisma and a similarly-embarrassing jealousy at not experiencing that charisma directly. He tried to ignore the latter. If he were smart, he would ignore the former too; but he wasn’t, so he was filled with all sorts of absurd warmth and unwarranted resentment as Aang embraced his old friend.

“Teo,” Aang said after stepping back, “remember Zuko?”

“Of course.” Teo inclined his head. “You’re doing a great job, Fire Lord.”

Zuko startled out of his reverie and mirrored him. “Right – thank you.”

Aang chuckled in a way that set off an alarm deep in Zuko’s psyche. “Firebenders can blush?”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko snapped, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

Aang was a lot closer than Zuko last remembered. His eyes were bright and his hands were by his skin and – he was _smushing_ in his cheeks without warning, squishing his skin in and out _like it was suddenly allowed._

“Stop it!” Zuko struggled. “You’re not my Uncle.”

“But I am your great-grandfather,” Aang said, relenting but poising his hands threateningly.

“Oh, shut up. Just – show me around the temple. It looks different from the last one.”

“That’s because it’s a different temple, Zuko.”

“You know what I mean! It looks different from the last time I saw it.”

“Oh, that’s because of the Air Acolytes! I’ll show you!” Aang slotted their arms together and led Zuko through the Northern Air Temple. He told him about the people devoted to keeping his culture alive, gray eyes shining and excited, breaths grazing Zuko’s cheek when he turned. And Zuko didn’t feel jealousy; he felt warmth.

* * *

They pitched camp in a cream-stone, cliff-side veranda, sliding into a forgotten-turned-familiar routine – off Appa’s back, setting out supplies, taking stock of it. Then they started to take in the new air, Aang coming to Appa’s face to pet him. He steadied one hand on his snout and ran his fingers through his fur, held his gaze stiffly focused.

Zuko traipsed over and petted Appa, too. He glanced over his shoulder to scan their surroundings: grand ruins of a desolate city sprawled out around them. He scanned it for a while, slowly placed the designs with a memory from map studies. “We’re in Taku.”

“That’s the name of it?”

“Yeah.” Appa’s ear twitched appreciatively at one of Zuko’s more skillful scratches.

“…I don’t have great memories here.”

“Oh. What happened?”

“Sokka, Katara, and I landed here so we could find medicine for a fever Sokka came down with. And then I…got captured by Zhao. And you rejected my olive branch.”

“Oh.” Zuko paused and looked over at Aang, saw his clenched jaw and downcast eyes. “We can always make…new memories,” he tried.

Aang’s hands slowed as he looked up Zuko, slowly cracking a grin. “New memories?”

Zuko smiled back. “Good ones.”

Aang buried his fingers in Appa’s fur again, leaning his forehead against him before stepping away, walking backwards. “We’ll be back soon, buddy,” he announced, then fell backwards off the veranda.

“Aang!” Zuko yelled, racing to the edge – heart beating a storm in his ears just to see The Avatar levitating over a bed of craggy stones.

Aang dispersed the air supporting him and landed lightly on his feet. “Are you coming? Bet you can’t catch The Avatar in your old age, Sifu Hotman,” he teased and took off.

Zuko vaulted off the veranda and into a chase around the dilapidated paradise of Taku, falling into adrenaline and sweat and ragged breaths and sunsets. By nightfall, Zuko was trudging languidly back to their campsite, cupping a small flame in his palm. Aang rode an air scooter back, looping around him obnoxiously like a spritely bumble fly.

“Wow. I did _not_ expect you to get this tired,” Aang gleefully mused for the hundredth time, finally diffusing his air scooter.

“You’re a pest,” Zuko grumbled, pulling off his sweaty clothes and dropping them on the veranda floor. “Just go to sleep.”

“Spirits, how much have you aged since taking the throne?”

“Enough,” Zuko replied, pulling on a thin pair of pants to sleep in.

After some moments of quiet and shuffling, Aang said, “We should light a fire.” 

When Zuko looked over, a pile of branches and leaves were compiled at Aang’s feet. “Why?” he questioned, even as he stooped to light it. “Can’t you regulate your body temperature?”

“Yeah, but…there’s something about gathering around a fire at the end of the day. And we don’t do it often.”

Zuko sat down beside him. “We can do it more.”

Aang watched the fire for a while before turning a devilish look on Zuko, face suffused with orange. “Do you know any scary stories?”

“What are you, twelve?”

Aang laughed brightly, and by the time he sobered Zuko decided to tell him a story anyways. Scary stories turned into cultural legends and nostalgic first impressions and jokes they used to tell each other. Aang leaned into Zuko’s shoulder as they reminisced about all the good parts of the world falling apart, every reminder of life’s uncertain offerings that kept them alive.

“Did you ever remember the beginning of that joke,” Aang started and paused to let out a chuckle. His eyes had fallen shut, his voice slowed. “Leave me…‘Leaf me alone – I’m bushed’?”

Zuko laughed quietly and lay Aang down to rest. “No, I haven’t. We’ll ask Iroh.”

“When?” He was barely awake.

“Whenever we’re in Ba Sing Se.”

Aang made a noise and shifted into a more comfortable position. “I hated Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko chuckled and extinguished their flames. “I loved it.”

* * *

The bracelet was virtuosically carved to emulate the roiling bodies of twin dragons. It was painful to decipher where each started, where each ended; their figures were fluid and intertwined. The pale jade of the design was aggressive in texture, ruffles and spines and wings protruding from its smoothed band. The bracelet was just a touch too small to fit his own wrist, but he could envision it encircling another’s.

Zuko lifted his gaze to the beaming artist. She was maybe fifteen; tan-skinned and dressed in thin, gray garb; her hope unwavering.

“I’ll take that one,” Zuko said, pulling out his silk pouch.

“Really?” she blurted. “Th-thank you. That’ll be–”

Zuko set his pouch down in front of her. “Take all of it. I’ve seen nobles wear jewelry less worthy of their wealth.”

The girl stared up at him in shock, then bowed low. “Thank you, sir.”

“No. Thank you.” He averted his gaze when he saw her wrist swipe at her lowered face. “Spend it wisely.”

Zuko wasn’t surprised to find that Aang had wandered. He was crouched in front of a semi-circle of children, voice excited and hushed.

“Do you guys wanna see my best trick yet?”

They nodded excitedly.

Aang sent his hands forward, slender and sure, and pulled apart his palms to reveal a rapidly-spinning ring of bright beads. Zuko heard a few _woah’s_ , but most of the audience remained unmoved.

“Aangie,” one girl said, “are you sure this is your best trick? I liked your juggling one better.”

“Yeah, can you do that again?” another asked excitedly.

“Oh alright, alright. But I’ll need your help again.” Aang pocketed his rocks and the kids handed him the miscellaneous – sticks, coins, peach pits – for him to “juggle” with blasts of air. That segued into a series of other tricks Zuko instantly lost track of when Aang’s eyes met his over the heads of the kids. A crooked smile pulled his lips, and Zuko felt his whole body sigh.

“Look, it’s happening!” a boy cried, and Aang’s attention was back on the kids.

“Batari!” a teenage girl called, coming to stand by Zuko’s right.

One of the kids turned around, then the whole herd peered back.

“Batari, there you are,” she continued. “Come on, we have to go home.” By chance, she glanced up at Zuko, just for a dark flush to bloom over her cheeks. She hightailed it once her sister joined her.

“I’m sure all of your guys’ parents are waiting for you, too,” Aang announced, dismissal implicit. “It was nice meeting you all though.”

The group of kids started dispersing, albeit unenthusiastically, though the girl who’d spoken earlier hesitated for longer. “Aangie, will you come back tomorrow?” she asked.

“I don’t think so, Nari. I’m just passing through right now, so I’m leaving really soon.” When he saw her tilt her head down, he reached a hand out to ruffle her hair. “Hey, don’t look so down. It was nice to meet today, wasn’t it?” As she nodded, he reached into his pocket. “Here, I know they weren’t your favorite, but I’ll let you have my extra special rocks.”

She gasped as he held them out to her. “Really?”

“Yeah! I can’t imagine anyone else more deserving of having them. Here.”

“Thank you, Aangie!” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

Aang laughed in shock and smiled blindingly up at Zuko. “You’re welcome. Make sure you take care of them, okay? That way you’ll always have something to remember me by.”

She nodded determinedly and held the pebbles firmly. “I hope you have fun when you go to the rest of the world.”

“Thank you, Nari. I hope you have fun here, too. Now, get back to your auntie. You don’t want her to worry.”

Zuko waited until after the girl left to approach, smiling at how she insisted on one more hug.

Aang straightened up and stretched out his back. “Hey, Hotman. How was your shopping trip?”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “I got you something.”

“Really?” His eyes widened adorably. “You didn’t have to.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Just – here.” He shoved the bracelet into his hand.

It was agonizing, watching his reaction: His eyes widened further, his mouth crept into a gape, and he raised the bracelet to eye-level to view it. “Spirits…Zuko, this is gorgeous.”

“It’s…two dragons.”

A smile broke out on his face. Finally. “It made you think of us.”

“…Do you like it?” Zuko asked.

“I love it.” Aang stretched out his wrist and Zuko reached out, helping the bracelet onto it. “It’s the perfect size, too.” He laughed, brighter than the sun. “I can’t believe…”

“What?”

“I can’t believe things this perfect just exist.”

Zuko felt himself blush and Aang laughed again, just as bright.

* * *

The oil-paper of Aang’s parasol tinted his skin ruby-rose under the Ba Sing Se sun. He looked radiant because of that and his backdrop: the brown roofs of the lower ring, the dull tones of poverty. He was holding onto Zuko’s arm and talking about the group of kids they’d just left behind – or, who’d just left them, after a pair of teenagers called for them. Occasionally, Zuko threw in a _Right_ or an affirmative hum, but mostly, he watched the way Aang’s lips curved around words when he smiled like this. Sometimes Aang laughed at him for responding too late and Zuko’d redirect his gaze for a few moments. There, he’d find disapproving looks and envious gazes until he decided to look back at Aang, silently wondering where he could spend his gold, how much of a family’s expenses he could cover in an afternoon.

Zuko’s eyes caught on a little boy with cropped hair. He was around ten and he averted his gaze immediately. Zuko was sure he’d seen him already that afternoon, and he became even more sure when they passed by him again.

“That kid is…following us, I think,” he said quietly.

“Hm?” Aang followed his gaze and inclined his head. “That kid?”

“Yeah.”

Aang promptly abandoned their path and approached him. He sat down and smiled disarmingly at the wide-eyed boy. 

“Hi, I’m Aang,” he started. “What’s your name?”

“Pu Wei,” the kid revealed after a long moment, expression along the lines of overwhelmed.

“Nice to meet you, Pu Wei.”

Said kid was unresponsive.

Aang shot a glance at Zuko and gestured as the Fire Lord startled into sitting. “This is–”

“Are you an Avatar?” Pu Wei blurted.

Aang relaxed and turned radiant again. “Yes, I am.”

“Is that why you have arrows on your head?”

“Actually, I have these tattoos because I’m an airbending master.”

Pu Wei nodded, still looking flabbergasted.

Aang gestured at Zuko again. “This is my friend, Zuko. We came over because he noticed how curious you looked.”

Zuko raised his hand in a half-wave but stayed quiet, not wanting to alarm the kid further.

“You walk the way my sister walks with her boyfriend,” he said, still blurting awkwardly. “They only walk like that when Mama and Baba can’t see, because they’re not allowed, but…you walk like them.”

“Do you think that’s…weird?”

Pu Wei shook his head. “I’ve just…never seen two boys walk like that. It looks nice. You look even happier than my sister.”

Aang slid a touch closer to Zuko, smiling gently. “Are there any boys you want to walk with like that? Or that you want to hold hands with,” he intertwined his fingers with Zuko’s, “like this?”

Pu Wei nodded jerkily, then seemed to form a resolution. Next, he spoke softly. “His name is Lei. He always makes me laugh, especially when he thinks I’m sad.”

Zuko felt himself smile, felt Aang chuckle.

“He sounds like a keeper,” Aang assured.

Zuko hummed in agreement. “It’s okay to want that, even if you don’t see other boys doing it. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong; it just means you have love in your heart, and that’s something to be happy about.” There was a squeeze at his hand, but he held Pu Wei’s gaze until he smiled.

“Pu Wei,” Aang’s hand left Zuko’s to fold his oil-paper parasol, “I want you to have this. You can keep it, or sell it–”

“Or give it to Lei.”

Pu Wei beamed.

Aang chuckled. “Whatever you want. Take it.”

Pu Wei took the parasol a bit reverently, studying its fine calligraphy and paper and frills. It was painfully lavish beside his beige rags. After his moment, he straightened and met Aang’s gaze. “Thank you, Avatar. Thank you, Avatar’s Boyfriend.” He bowed and left.

Aang laughed, eyes curving into crescent moons. Zuko watched after Pu Wei, wistful.

“Are you in shock at your new title, Sifu Hotman?” Aang teased.

“No,” Zuko prodded his nose to encourage him away from his face, “I’m just thinking.”

“You don’t think, Zuko. You brood.”

“I don’t brood!”

“You always brood! That’s even a brooding face! So, what are you brooding about?”

He gave a conceding sigh. “The usual: the Fire Nation. There was a time where we were about as liberal and accepting as the air nomads. But now, we’re even worse than the Earth Kingdom, with homophobia. I’ve gotten rid of all the laws already, but…I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to repair what Sozin did. Not for…anything.”

Zuko avoided Aang’s eyes. They’d be too open, too empathetic, too endearing.

Still, Aang reached him. He took his hand again and squeezed – gentle, comforting. “You’ll do it. You’re…an extraordinary man. I know you can.”

Zuko squeezed back weakly.

* * *

Zuko woke up in the middle of the night to see them passing over the desert. Dark cliffs lined the outskirts of the still and statuesque sands, pale like a porcelain sea under a moonlit filter. He groggily crept over Appa’s saddle and set his hand on Aang’s back. He startled and Zuko laughed in his sleep-hoarsened voice.

“Aang, can we land?”

He looked at him oddly. “Why?”

“I want to feel the sand…It looks so solid from up here.”

And so they landed, because Zuko’d asked. Because that was what this journey was.

The sand was startlingly gentle on Zuko’s feet, like carefully-spun mulberry silk swaddling his soles. It was soft and cool and sweet, malleable and welcoming.

* * *

“Can you help me with his saddle, Zuko?” Aang asked, looking back over his shoulder as he tossed a food pack to the ground.

“Sure.” He slid down onto the opposite side and helped Aang slide off the saddle. 

Once his back was bare, Appa shook out his fur and took off, flying leisurely around the Southern Air Temple.

“When we come here, it’s usually to relax for a while,” Aang said, walking closer to Zuko. “So Appa’s used to roaming pretty independently for some time. He was born at the Eastern Air Temple, but he spent more time here, so it’s something like home and…Is it okay if we stay here for a while?”

“Sure. It’s really nice here…” Zuko glanced around. “You restored it, didn’t you?”

Aang ducked his head bashfully, and Zuko couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not. “Yeah, I did the best I could on my own. I couldn’t just leave it like before once the war ended, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Aang smiled up at him. “Well, grab a bag, Hotman. I’ll show you around.”

* * *

Zuko was sunbathing in the gardens when Appa found him, seeking sustenance. It took Zuko a while to find his food, but Aang had mentioned where it’d be on his detailed tour the day before, so he wasn’t completely hopeless. He ran his fingers through tufts of the bison’s fur as he ate, feeling the motion become progressively more cathartic. He hadn’t been very affectionate towards Appa during his stint in Team Avatar, but this time around, he copied the affections he saw Aang give him throughout their trip. He hoped Appa was appreciative.

“It must be nice being a sky bison, right?” he said, not allowing himself to feel crazy. “You have Aang for the rest of your life, and you have the skies, too. And you don’t have to worry about falling in love or remedying a vitiated nation or intercultural affairs…You’re pretty much set, right?”

Appa chewed his hay contentedly.

“I think this might’ve been a mistake…but I’ve never been happier, Appa.”

* * *

“Do you know who this is?”

Aang padded over and regarded the statue. It was a man in relatively simple clothes, hair barely controlled and hanging past his shoulders, lopsided smile eternally carved into stone. “No, I don’t. Honestly…I don’t know much about the history of the Avatars, at least the majority of them. But I’m guessing he was the first.”

Zuko nodded. The statue stood alone at the back of the sanctuary, the successive ones diffusing from it convexly. “So…one day there’ll be a statue of this like you?”

Aang chuckled. “I hope so.” He turned away from the first Avatar and stepped through the others.

“Who’s in charge of carving these?” Zuko asked.

“I’m not sure…I’m hoping we can train air acolytes to, and the Fire Sages might know about the traditions, besides what I can find in records.” He disappeared between the rows of statues. “It’s kind of surreal,” an area to the left side of the room commented, “to have all of these past lives but still be so separate from them. We’re connected by one spirit, but I don’t even know who most of my lives were. I don’t know what they experienced. I don’t know what they feared or who they loved. All I know is they wanted to bring more light into the world.”

“Is that what you’ve always wanted?” Zuko had approached the space he heard Aang’s voice coming from.

“I think so,” he replied, appearing from around a statue. “The sentiment resonates, when I go into the Avatar State.” His gaze focused on the face of the Avatar by Zuko’s head, as if trying to connect with her life from where his feet were planted. He looked a bit pained, but then his gaze flashed to Zuko’s, and he looked lighter, prettier: a small grin relaxing his features, gray eyes bright, peach skin hinting at a suntan after months of travel. “It’s not very romantic to be surrounded by all my past lives, is it?” he realized, stepping a bit closer.

“Romantic?”

“This room is probably meant to be very spiritual and contemplative – and it is, but it’s also lonely. Sometimes I can’t take it. I just…I wanted to know what it’d be like to not be in here alone.”

“Well, I’m right here this time.”

“I know.” Aang set his hands on either side of Zuko’s face and kissed him.

Aang was right. This room was spiritual and contemplative and quiet and it – _this_ – almost felt wrong. But Aang’s lips were smooth and cool and dragged him under like a spell, leaving him complacent until he felt them start to shift away.

Zuko leaned forward to reclaim the space, set his hands against Aang’s waist, and held onto the rush of patchouli and peppermint for as long as he could, embraced it until he felt hot and hazy and lightheaded – hands feverish, chest aching.

They separated at the burn of breathlessness – begrudgingly.

* * *

Sokka was the first familiar face they saw in the South Pole. Not that Zuko really saw him before he was tackled.

“Zuko!” he cried. “I haven’t seen you since the war!”

“That’s not true, Sokka,” Zuko replied, returning his hug with infinitely less fervor.

“Hey! What about me?” Aang called from the side.

“Oh, I’ve missed this firebender body of yours,” Sokka continued, completely ignoring The Avatar. “So _warm_.”

Zuko sent Aang an apologetic look and grumbled to his captor, “You’re gonna take it all away.”

“No I’m not. It’s in your bloodstream or something.”

“My _chi_ ,” Zuko corrected.

“Your bones,” Sokka insisted, burrowing in deeper. “I wish you would stay until I visit Chantara again. Wait, can you? _Please?_ I need cuddles.”

Aang’s arms were crossed over his chest as he glared petulantly at them, and Zuko had to laugh.

“Aang!” They heard before Katara joined them, pulling the neglected man into a hug. “Zuko!” She smiled mildly, then eyed her brother. “Are you ready to share, Sokka?”

“Why should I? I’ve always liked Zuko more than you.”

“That’s – not true!”

She was met with a telling silence.

“Well, that’s not true now!” she protested, and they laughed.

“How about a group hug?” Aang offered, and they wrapped their arms around each other, taking in familiar skin and scents, new fabrics and scars.

“If only Toph were here…” Katara said.

“She shows her affection differently, anyways,” Zuko said, and they laughed again, feeling warm with familiarity despite the chill.

“Wait, so…what’s up?” Sokka asked after they separated.

“We’re just…travelling the world,” Aang said.

“Without inviting us?”

“I couldn’t uproot all of your lives,” Zuko said. “But Aang and I were free, so…”

“I guess. Still a bit rude, though,” Sokka remarked, walking over to Appa. “I’ll help you find someplace to stay. I’m sure every inn-keeper would die for the chance to house The Fire Lord _and_ The Avatar.”

They unpacked Appa and walked to the city’s best lodging, Sokka and Katara pointing out anything and everything old and new about their home as they passed through.

* * *

Their first night there was quiet; they were having a welcoming ceremony at the end of the week instead of immediately, like in the North. Zuko took off his spiked shoulders and set them in his room wardrobe. As he set the work off his robes, he heard a knock at the door, then it opening.

“Do you need any help with those?” Aang said, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Sure,” Zuko said, then nearly flew at the blast of wind that whipped his skirts over his head. “Oh. Helpful.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “That actually works sometimes.”

Aang helped him out of his robes manually after that. As Zuko hung them, Aang pulled out his headpiece and topknot, grinning impishly.

Zuko rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“Oh, I figured it’d be nice to…hang out, tonight…you know, since we’re used to traveling together…”

Zuko snorted and strode over to the bed. “Take those off.” He nodded towards Aang’s clothes.

“Um. Why?”

Zuko didn’t dignify that with an answer.

Aang shot him a look but conceded, stripping down to his loincloth and slipping under the blanket Zuko held up for him. They unlit the candles together and, eventually, Aang curled around Zuko to spoon him, nose pressed to his shoulder, hands against his chest.

“Is this what you meant by ‘hanging out’?”

Aang chuckled prettily, gently. “Yeah.”

He fell asleep easily and woke up just before sunrise, when he felt Aang leaving the bed. He kissed him _good morning_ and _goodbye_.

* * *

It was a bit disappointing how busy Sokka and Katara were when they visited, but they should have expected it. They tried to meet up for dinners, finding themselves at a different venue – restaurant or home – every other night. Their friends’ schedules did give Aang and Zuko plenty of time to explore, though.

They hooked their fingers together whenever they were alone, Aang laughing at Zuko’s shivering before doing what he could to warm up his hands. They snuck around factory sites and the vacant city outskirts and pressed each others’ backs against steel beam skeletons and ice block walls, peppered each other’s faces with kisses. Zuko had to abandon his breath of fire to let Aang kiss him, felt the austral air bite his nose as Aang cupped his rosy cheeks and admired him.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured.

“N-n-n-no…you,” Zuko managed, grinning when Aang did.

Zuko kept his room as warm as possible, white-orange fire blazing on the hearth as he kissed Aang into his sheets. Aang was always cool, but Zuko was heating him up, driving his lips deep and hard like strikes, feeling him grip his sides to keep steady. Every few minutes, to catch his breath, Zuko would pull away to catch Aang stare up at him, growing more and more punch-drunk. He raised his knuckles, still red and bruised-looking from the icy air, to caress Aang’s cheek, then abruptly sat up.

The door opened, and Aang immediately went from frowning to pushing himself up.

“Hey,” Sokka said, “I came to remind you that…oh, you’re both here.” He came up to Zuko’s bed, continuing. “Dinner’s starting soon, but there’s still time. Your guys’ place was on my way, so I figured we could go together.”

“Oh, sure.” Zuko jumped to his feet, not questionably at all. “Aang…you’re not dressed.”

He blushed, looking down at his casual wear. “Well, your hair’s not done.”

“Did you take it out?!”

“Ooh – can I braid it?” Sokka asked.

Zuko blinked.

“It’ll be a sign of unity. Come on.”

Sokka and Zuko sat back down on the bed as Aang slipped out of the room. Sokka’s hands actually felt really nice in his hair.

“I don’t exactly have the things for hair loopies, but…oh, do you have any ribbons?”

“Yeah.” Zuko reached into his bedside table and pulled out some silk-fabric strips.

“Perfect,” Sokka said, getting back to work.

When Aang came back in, he burst out laughing. “Sokka, are you sure about–”

“Listen, I know it just looks weird halfway through, but trust me. Fear not, Fire Lord; you’re in good hands.”

Zuko glared at Aang as he circled around to watch Sokka’s hands for the rest of the process.

“Guys!” The door slammed open some time later. “Dinner is starting! Or at least it _should_ be. Sokka, you said you would…What are you doing?”

“Zuko’s hair! He looks like a local now, right?”

“He looks like an _heiress_.”

“It might be Yue-inspired…”

Zuko groaned and hid his face. “How bad is it, Katara?”

“It’s…It’s weird, but it kind of looks good. Sokka, I didn’t know you were that good at doing hair.”

“I dated a hairstylist, Katara. Of course I’m a master. Let’s go.”

As they walked to the Royal Palace, Aang leaned toward Zuko’s ear and murmured, “Katara wasn’t lying. You look nice.”

Zuko smiled through the ceremony.

* * *

Zuko held onto Aang as he moved them through the swamp, a short water vortex carrying them towards the heart of it. Aang maneuvered them through thickets of ivy green, thick branches and viscid vines enshrouding them from the sun, sapphire waters turned dark by the shadows. He moved with a shocking confidence at a shocking speed, given that Zuko could barely see the scenes in front of them until they were left behind.

“Have you ever travelled like this?” Aang asked.

“Of course not.” Zuko could feel the vortex slow marginally, the foreign sense of weightlessness around his legs.

“You seem a bit overwhelmed.”

“I’m _fine_.”

Aang chuckled. “We’re almost there.”

Apparently “there” was the largest tree Zuko has seen in his life: a banyan that made him feel absolutely miniscule, standing on it.

Aang took his hand and led him along the branches. “This is the banyan-grove tree. This entire swamp is part of it, connected through its roots.”

“Agni…really?” He looked out at the lush treetops, green blushing peach under daybreak’s light. It felt sacred, serendipitous; but since he was with Aang, it was likely just inevitable.

“There’s a man who works to protect it, but I would never try to harm it. I just wanted to bring you.”

“It’s amazing,” he murmured. His gaze shifted when Aang moved their hands, placed Zuko’s on his hip. He leaned down to kiss him; felt Aang wrap his arms around his neck; pressed deeper, harder until Aang was as flushed as the sky.

Aang shuddered out a breath and nipped at his ear – gentle, then sharp – before murmuring into it. “Everything here is connected,” hand drifting, teasing the nape of Zuko’s neck, “and I wanted to feel close to you.”

He met Aang’s intense, gray eyes before his lips were caught in another kiss, Aang leading their bodies backwards until they hit the banyan. Zuko crowded Aang, guiding his back to press firm against the tree trunk, fitting his own hips against Aang’s, drawing something breathless and beautiful from his lips.

Zuko’s eyes trailed over Aang – chest heaving, lips swollen, eyes darkening Aang – as he caught his breath for the sake of burning lungs. “I’m not misreading this, right?”

“No.” He huffed out a rough laugh. “No, you’re not. I…want you. I mean, I…”

“I know.” Zuko chuckled at the shyness settling on his lover’s face. “We should…” His hands trailed down to Aang’s thighs, coaxed them up and around his hips as he kissed him again, letting Aang’s back drag down the banyan as he descended into a kneel. After being set down, Aang continued sliding down until – Zuko leaned back – for the first time, The Avatar lay still and solid beneath him.

Zuko’s head felt like field of steam, hot and mystified and leaving him only with what was right before – beneath – him, vulnerable and trusting – brandishing a palette of glossy and burning and lustful – and dragging him back down with too much fire for an airbender, kissing him past when his jaw started to ache. Zuko leaned his weight into his forearm and ground his crotch in Aang’s and _felt_ him gasp and grind back and grip at his chest. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth was open around his breaths and Zuko pushed down his robe collar to kiss at skin he couldn’t see before.

Aang gasped again and tightened his grip, held Zuko steady. “Stop, I want – don’t want this. I want…” His eyes were open and insistent and blazing. “Please?”

“Yes,” Zuko breathed. “Yes, of course…” He sat up, saw Aang frown despite himself. “I…you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Aang nodded, and Zuko’s hand found its way into his hair, tugging nervously. Aang pulled it back down and kissed his knuckles, something between comforting and flirting. “I’m fine,” he said. Then, to emphasize, he pulled at his rouge sash and undressed.

Zuko watched for an indulgent moment before following suit.

* * *

Under the darkness of the new moon and the brightness of the white stars and the warmth of Aang’s body, Zuko lay – Aang pulled onto his chest, Zuko curled into Appa’s side. They were pretending to be asleep, but Zuko could sense the irregularity of Aang’s breaths and the strength of his heart suggesting otherwise.

Zuko’s arms tightened around Aang’s waist, just to hold a little more warmth. Aang fell deeper into him, somehow.

“We’re not very far from the Fire Nation, are we?” Zuko murmured as gently as possible.

“No,” Aang replied slow, nearly-asleep, “we’re not.”

Zuko hummed in understanding.

Aang was quiet for a while. Then, “We passed by Kyoshi Island, you know. If you wanted, we could…”

“Circle back? …Okay.”

Aang fell asleep in his arms before long. Zuko followed the rhythm of his breathing until he did too.

* * *

They found an inn on Kyoshi Island easily, but spent most of their first few days separate. Aang spent his time entertaining and teaching the town’s children; Zuko ensured profusely that he came in peace and apologized for his previous damages, paying tribute to as many traditions as possible. Sometimes Zuko and Aang were requested for the same things; sometimes they were requested for the same things at different times. It was fulfilling in its own way to be busy, to leave awe in his wake rather than horror. In the evenings they were lucky, Aang and Zuko could walk down quiet paths, hand-in-hand.

It was almost a week until the initial excitement wore off and they were able to relax. They drank saké, cloudy and cool and sharp on the tongue. Zuko kicked it back. Aang cradled it, watched the fire intently. He was bathed in amber, eyes almost appearing brown.

“Zuko, can we do it again?” he asked the hearth. “This time, with me facing you?”

Zuko set down the saké he was pouring. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Last time didn’t hurt, right?”

“Zuko, I want to.”

When Zuko pushed inside of him, Aang hissed and dug his fingernails into his back.

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked gently.

“Mhm.” A breath. “Keep going.”

It was harder to take his time when he was watching Aang’s face in the firelight – each shiver, each wince, each sigh – but he tried. He tried and when he conceded to Aang’s pleading, _faster_ , Aang gripped his hair and moaned – not quite loud, but free – and Zuko sought out the sound over and over and over until they were both spent and broken.

* * *

“…And this is?”

“The labyrinth of Oma and Shu!”

Zuko stared at the impressive hunk of rubble at the end of the ravine they’d landed in.

“Well, this used to be the northern entrance,” Aang elaborated. “During the war, Fire Nation troops collapsed it to trap us in.”

“Oh.” Zuko tried to ignore the itch of shame. “Did you happen to forget that detail on our way?”

“Maybe. But, don’t worry about it. I should be able to fix it.” He slipped off Appa’s back and approached the rubble, growing still and silent. He leaned forward and laid his palms on the ground and, after a long moment, the earth started trembling.

Appa growled anxiously and Zuko pressed a hand to his head, absently murmuring reassurances as he watched Aang’s bending in awe.

The rock collapsed into itself, groaning and shifting until it stood unrecognizable. When Aang straightened, flicking a droplet of sweat from his brow, the beige stone arched into a gaping entrance. Megalithic, bipedal badgermoles lined both sides of the tunnel, statues animated and detailed and intimidating. Aang had restored the tunnel so meticulously, he could read the inscription at it’s crown: _The Lovers’ Cave._

“Wow…” was the first thing Zuko could get out. “Aang, I can’t believe you–”

But he shook his head. “It’s not like I created it. I just wanted you to see it.”

“It’s beautiful.” Zuko watched Aang’s back. _All that, for me…_ “Thank you.”

Aang smiled and held his hand out to take. “We should go through.”

Before Zuko could agree, Appa wailed, like he could understand everything they were saying.

“Oh, buddy…” Aang turned back to his sky bison. “Maybe we can’t…”

“Appa can stay outside. What if…Oma and Shu entered the caves from opposite sides, right? Since they came from two different villages?”

“Yeah. There’s a southern entrance.”

“So what if you flew to the other end with Appa and left him in there while you entered? And we could…find each other?”

A grin broke out on Aang’s face, brilliant and sunlit, before he teased, “I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Zuko.” He slung his arms around his neck, pulled him into a light kiss, and agreed.

* * *

Zuko held fire in his hand like guilt, but he didn’t want to let go. Aang had told him about the legend’s instructions – _you have to trust in love, and that means walking through the dark_ – but Zuko didn’t want to. At his core, he was a firebender, not an air or waterbender and definitely not an earthbender; he was born to produce light, not roam the dark.

But was there a difference between being lost in the light and being lost in the dark?

He forced his anxiety down and extinguished his flame. Then he continued forward in the pitch-like air.

It took him several paces to realize he wasn’t cast in complete blackness; there was a glow, a brightening one: a pale, just-emerald radiance, not unlike that in the Crystal Catacombs. He tilted his head upwards and saw the cave’s ceiling, rock inlaid with its own, rhombic crystals. He swung his gaze around the tunnels and moved less hesitantly, eventually finding a gaping, round gate. He stepped through and climbed down the path, which descended into stairs, until he stood before a colossal pair of alto-relief sarcophagi, kneeling over a rectangular banner.

“Love is brightest in the dark.”

Zuko jumped and whipped his head around. “Aang?”

Aang laughed in response as Zuko loped towards him, then murmured his name back with a fondness that had Zuko reeling. He cupped Aang’s face and drew him in, desperate, like an impassionate god. Aang wrapped his arms around his neck and tided them together like a scarlet river. His mouth fit Zuko’s like melliferous-sweet breaths of life, light touches and inebriating sugar swathed in the smell of autumnal youth; and Zuko was falling in deeper, crumbling along the edges because of how much this moment felt like coming home.

* * *

The ocean was afternoon-cool, the sky draped with thick, white clouds. Zuko’s eyes were shut, body relaxed, feeling somewhere between lazy and languid. He could feel the sunrays wash over him occasionally, recede like the tides.

Aang was off on the island somewhere, unable to stay still. Appa was surely napping after being tired out by his companion – or possibly hiding from him. The human laughter and bison groans had faded a while ago, but Zuko was too relaxed to note when exactly.

Buying time. That’s what they were doing – landing under the guise of letting Appa rest, spending their golden money for sport, holing up in inns and hostels, hiding amongst unsuspecting locals. Zuko was sure he was in denial on some level, since he wasn’t angry or terrified or heartbroken yet. Maybe emotional denial, since he was consciously aware. Still, it was easy to be calm when Aang was at his side.

When having Aang was so easy.

The water at his stomach receded…and kept receding. He could feel the sun too, unblocked and igniting his chi. He cracked open his eyes. The sky was clear and blue, sun only blocked by an upside-down face.

Aang giggled.

“What?” Zuko snapped.

“Dance with me,” Aang said with a smile that almost melted Zuko’s faux-disinterest.

“I’m busy,” he replied, turning onto his side and shutting his eyes. He was just settling into his new position when water crashed down on him, heavy, jolting cold wrenching him from his comfort. He kicked to the surface and spluttered, glaring up at The Avatar whose arms were still raised incriminatingly. “Why you…”

Aang was gone before he was halfway out of the water, nude body streaking over the magmatic-black surface of the island.

Zuko gave chase.

* * *

Agni was high over the beach house property, lighting it golden and green. The air was almost-arid, almost-oppressive, having just enough sea to off-set it. The beach house, now repainted and up-kept, was carnage-red in direct sunlight, but that was behind them, where the ground was firm and accented by boulders.

The Avatar was reclining in the sand, relaxed like he’d always owned this portion of the worlds. He was three-quarters-way between the tides and the house, stilled enough for meditation but not postured for it.

Zuko walked over the sand, hot, white grains threading through his footfalls. His eyes stayed on Aang and the details that made him: the floral-blue arrows curved along his skin, the relaxed set of his slender shoulders, the stillness of his hands at the surface of the sand.

Zuko kneeled quietly beside him, still studying – the indent of a collarbone over a strong chest, sun-mottled skin escaping the haphazard twist of fabric, the subtle reset of musculature with each measured breath.

“This is the shore the lion turtle came to,” Aang said.

Zuko’s gaze flickered to the blue sea before them, the silver iridescence dancing at the horizon, for a moment before returning to his skin.

“Do you remember that?” he continued.

“Of course I do,” Zuko said. “I was terrified. We all were.”

“…I think I knew that, I just convince myself I’m more alone than I really am, sometimes.”

“Of all the people in the world, you are so far from alone.” He paused. “That…must sound cruel, I just…that’s never how I’ve seen you.”

Aang gave a small smile, faintly sad. “Is that why you picked me? To come with you?”

“You know why I picked you.”

“…Yeah. I do.” Aang regarded him for a moment and leaned over to kiss him. His lips were soft and cool and sweet, always malleable. He followed and led, pulled more than pushed, pliant and gentle and freeing. They steamed under the sun, dragged it out so it seared, let it cut like shards of glass on their calloused skin. Aang’s hands slipped through the sand and he pulled and pulled so Zuko would bury him.

* * *

“What on earth have you been doing? Your shoulders are so tense,” Zuko huffed, kneading the muscle of Aang’s back and shoulders.

Aang arched at the touch, slowly relaxed and resettled in the bronze basin they were sharing. “Well, besides overseeing the politics of the three, post-war nations and a developing republic city, I’ve been escorting the most powerful man in said nations for the past few months, so–”

“ _Escort?_ You’re not my escort. I’m a firebending master who’s been holding his own in this world since I was a teenager. I don’t need an ‘escort’.”

After a shocked beat, Aang let out a light giggle. 

Zuko felt a smile unfurl his scowl. Impulsively, nervously, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss into the base of Aang’s neck. The rice water lapped around them as he leaned back – too quickly to smell the sweet lotus on his skin – and his lover laughed again. 

Aang reached behind his shoulder and twisted his fingers through Zuko’s, pulled his pale hand to his front and pressed a kiss into it. He didn’t let go quickly, though his hold slackened. He breathed something like a sigh and left the moment still with words that he wanted to say, that he maybe needed to say. Zuko could sense he didn’t know how to; he didn’t either. Eventually, Aang asked, “Are we going out today?”

He brought his face closer to his body; now he could smell the lotus, see the relaxed lines of muscle. “You don’t want to?”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. I just wanna be with you.”

They left the tub eventually, dressed and saw a play. Zuko couldn’t quite place it, but Aang seemed quiet.

* * *

Zuko entered the master bedroom at sunset. The bottles of baijiu he’d picked up at the market clinked in his hands, liquor clear and rough and aged to burn.

Aang was lying on his back in the bed, sheets a garnet red that didn’t quite suit his skin; he would match cream or pearl to his body instead, Zuko thought. Aang remained still and listening as he set the bottles down on a rosewood desk.

“This is wrong, Zuko,” Aang said suddenly, mezzo-piano and tight. “This never should have happened.”

Zuko stilled, felt something in his chest crumple, like Agni was threatening to collapse from the sky. “What shouldn’t have happened?” he asked anyways, letting himself sound dumb.

“ _This!_ ” He exclaimed, exploded. “None of this!” He pushed himself up and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, spoke quieter. “I shouldn’t have let us go this far.”

“It wasn’t just you or your decision! _I_ wanted this. _I_ let this happen!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I should have been better!”

“Well, maybe I was the one who made you act worse!” he yelled through the sting.

Aang drew in a breath and spoke slowly, ever the mediator. “Zuko, you’re going home to Na–”

“Don’t say her name,” he seethed, sounding cold and rigid like a tyrant, like his father. Knowing it. 

A heavy pause settled in his voice’s wake.

“You can’t just pretend she doesn’t exist,” Aang said, voice low with carefully-held aggravation.

“Yes, I can.”

The space between them had thinned to a hairsbreadth, Zuko looming over the bedside. They both knew Aang was stronger than this, much stronger than this, but he chose not to be.

Hands were fisting the thick crimson of Zuko’s robes, a voice telling him, “You’re asking me to hurt you.”

“I know.” Then, Zuko grabbed Aang’s waist and pulled their bodies flush.

The last time Zuko and Aang had sex, it was a fire. They met like Agni Kai, energy thrumming alongside adrenaline, blazing bodies at war. They bit and bruised and boiled their pain onto one another, sun-cast in shades of bloodshed and candescence. They stripped chemical, oil, gas between their skin and burned until they were left with air. The silk at Zuko’s back smoldered and he dragged the heat-warmth-flesh closer, wanting every ounce of overwhelmment and blindness to bury him. He arched and panted embers into their discord of gasps and cries. 

He watched Aang let himself go, and it was like grace. It was like every god and spirit and king smiling fondly, witnessing his unadulterated vulnerability: seeing the composure slip from his shoulders like fetters from wrists. Aang softened and livened, eyes imploring, mouth wider. He called _Zuko_ like a declaration, like a proposal. Like love.

Then came his freedom. Zuko lost touch with the world, with everything but the face and the slipping-shut, silver eyes before him. He lost track of their voices and their bodies but he felt the twining of their spirits – an insistent, relentless muddling – and he held on, refusing his gold-brown eyes the right to shut.

It was a long time before Aang’s eyes fluttered back open. He steadied his arms against Zuko’s chest and breathed.

 _Tomorrow_ , Zuko thought, _he’ll look at me with hatred and disapproval_. But for now, Aang allowed him the warmth of the sun and an unspoken, unmistakable profession.

Zuko held him and silently mouthed against his skin, _I love you, too._

* * *

The next few days were quiet. Aang had erected a wall between them, thick with willful silence. Zuko was too used to feeling Aang’s skin for the new distance, but he knew he couldn’t close it.

 _I have never been in the position to keep The Avatar from his desires_ , he lamented with a wry smile, pretending the humor still stood.

It wasn’t until their last night before returning to Capital City that Aang sought him out again. He crawled into his arms and Zuko held him wordlessly under the stars.

* * *

Zuko made sure Naliaka’s wedding was perfect. He felt guilty, but he’d never feel guilty enough, so he pretended he could make it up materially.

The ceremony was more Water Tribe than Fire Nation, and more hybrid than anything else. There were hundreds in attendance: commoners of the Fire Nation and Northern Water Tribe; chiefs of the Southern Water Tribe, diplomats of the United Republic; nobles from the Earth Nation; Sokka, Katara, Toph; The Avatar.

The only thing Aang told him before the ceremony was “I’m sorry.”

Zuko distracted himself with Naliaka’s beauty. It wasn’t difficult; it should have been easier. She smiled just before he kissed her for the first time – a modest, genuine thing – and Zuko felt the gentle beat of hope in his chest.

Zuko loved Naliaka when they got married, but it took a long time for him to fall for her: a year trying to fall out of love with Aang, half of one to accept that he never would, and a quarter to let them entangle like Tui and La in his chest – one light and welcome, one shadowed and half-hidden. The days passed easier after that.

After some time, Aang married Katara. It was a small affair in The Southern Water Tribe. When Katara said her vows and the tears slipped down Aang’s face, Zuko realized he wasn’t in love with him anymore. He told himself it was more comforting than painful.

* * *

When Fire Lady Naliaka became pregnant, the world was overjoyed. They said their baby would be a herald of peace, of unity, of progress. There were protests as well, but The Avatar quelled them. It might prove difficult to convince his people he wasn’t a traitor to his roots, but he would always try.

Despite all the excitement and unrest, the palace was safe and Naliaka’s pregnancy was healthy.

“What should we name her?” Zuko murmured, watching the peach-pale baby peer up at her mother. She’d stopped crying soon after being cleaned; Naliaka’s eyes had that effect.

“‘Izumi.’ A Fire Nation name for a Water Tribe thing.”

Zuko kissed the sweat-matted hair at Naliaka’s temple and agreed. 

The moment he rested his daughter’s head in the crook of his arm, he knew she was a firebender. She stared at him with surprise, but never fear.

Izumi had gold eyes, not blue. 

Not gray.

**Author's Note:**

> …was i right?
> 
> (okay im too soft to leave it at that but thank you if you read this whole thing – it means the world, and it means the universe if you comment or leave kudos. i hope you’re feeling well, wherever your at, and i hope you have a good day or middle of the night, whenever you get here)
> 
> also, for anyone interested, i made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5bmvgclqiwsu2iWvDQk11u?si=_TMnzQYKSA26QlPlAX6I7g) for this fic! it's mostly instrumentals and it's ordered chronologically just for the sake of it, so feel free to take a listen. and thank u again for reading <3
> 
>   
> trivia/notes  
> •“izumi” is a japanese name meaning “fountain” or “spring,” hence naliaka’s line  
> •“chantara” (chanthara, janthara, etc) is a gender-neutral thai name that combines “moon” and “water/stream” by which i mean sokka cuffed the moon at least thrice in this  
> •if any of you have seen chihayafuru or even doukyuusei, at the end of the lover’s cave scene i alluded to poem 17 from the hyakunin isshu (specifically the translation used in chihayafuru)


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